Her husband. That is how the late poet Ted Hughes is best known today. Not as ‘s former poet laureate or as the author of such estimable collections as “Lupercal” or “Crow,” but as Sylvia Plath’s husband, whose infidelity helped spur her to grief and suicide, as the man who presided over her literary estate ...
Parental poetry very often examines the emotional foundations built upon the relationship between child and father, rather than child and mother. This preoccupation of poets with their fathers may stem from society’s demands that create distance between them. Whereas for most of history mothers and children had more access to each other and could develop ...
Everyone, from time to time, get anxious when they think about it (DEATH). It is scary for some people and some folks hardly give it much thought. Then there are some of us who become totally obsessed with death! Here are some ways you can tell if you have become obsessed with Death Your Favorite ...
Sylvia Plath’s poem Mirror is an objectively serious poem which reveals the similarities between poems and the obsessive interest in the truth of reflections and the unhealthy dissatisfaction resulting from dwelling too long on an “exact” image of the present. Plath uses interesting perspective, significant structure, and deep metaphors to also illustrate the similarity between ...
Sylvia Plath was a uniquely troubled individual, whose originality of vision was reflected by her often dark, brooding poetry. Through her poetry, Plath expressed her personal view on a variety of recurring themes, including the obstacles faced by a woman poet, influences that shape the self, the allure of death, and several others. Among her ...
Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932. She was born into a world in which the man was dominant. Her father who was a scientist and beekeeper passed away when she was eight years old. She wrote her first poem at the age of ten and continued to write for many years. Her first ...
In “Lady Lazarus,” Plath confesses her several attempts to commit suicide. In the second stanza, it seems like she kills herself and comes back to life–she can’t explain how she’s still alive, “A sort of walking miracle.” Plath mentions her fight against life, she calls life her enemy, “O my enemy” something that won’t let ...
Cut by Sylvia Plath For Susan O’Neill Roe What a thrill– My thumb instead of an onion, The top quite gone Except for a sort of a hinge Of skin, A flap like a hat, Dead white. Then that red plush. Little pilgrim, The Indian’s axed your scalp. Your turkey wattle Carpet rolls Straight from ...
